


why'd you only call me when you're high?

by gemineyes



Series: endgame [2]
Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Drunk Dialing, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Unresolved Tension, benny is an idiot, beth is streaming peace by taylor swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemineyes/pseuds/gemineyes
Summary: Beth and Benny have a funny way of always making it back to one another.
Relationships: Beth Harmon & Benny Watts, Beth Harmon/Benny Watts, Cleo/Past Beth Harmon
Series: endgame [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068377
Comments: 37
Kudos: 260





	1. why'd you only call me when you're high?

**Author's Note:**

> more benny/beth because i said so.

Beth was asleep, or at least halfway there, when she received the call. She looked at the clock.  _ Who the hell was calling her at two am?  _ Someone from the West Coast, she thought, a paper or a tournament director or something. Even then, 11:00 was still too late for a business call. Unprofessional, really. She could’ve ignored it, she  _ should  _ have ignored it; deferring whatever proposition or assignment they had for her until tomorrow morning. Still, she pulled herself from the warm bed to pick up the ringing phone. She wanted,  _ needed, _ a break the next day; a real one that did not include callous businessmen.  _ Best to just deal with it now _ . She was awake, anyway.

“Hello?” Beth’s voice was groggy. She rubbed her tired eyes and let out a quiet yawn, waiting for a response. She wondered if they’d heard her. “Hello?” she said, more clearly this time.

Still, silence. She should just hang up. Clearly, whatever salesman or spokesperson on the other line was not worth her time, especially in the middle of the goddamn night. She had started to move the phone back to the receiver, angry at having been woken up for nothing, when he spoke.

“... Beth? Is it you?” The words were slurred.

_ You’ve gotta be fucking kidding. _

Beth recognized the voice. and not as some faraway West-Coast reporter. No, as a man who lived thirty minutes from the New-York hotel room where she sat now.

“Benny?” She said with exasperation.

“Uh… yeah, that’s it. That’s me, I mean.”

“How did you get this number?” Beth brought the phone closer to her ear, trying to hear him better over the roaring background noise. “Where  _ are  _ you?”

“Not so sure…”

Beth took a long sip of the water glass on the bedside table, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It didn’t look like sleep would be a possibility anytime soon.

“I called your house. But some  _ woman _ answered…”

Beth pursed her lips. She’d asked Jolene to house sit for her when she received her invitation to fashion week, an unexpected, but not unwelcome, perk of being dubbed by the press as  _ glamorous. _

“... she told me where you were staying.”

She winced. She would have to have a word to Jolene about that. 

“Why are you calling me, Benny?”

“...What?” 

He sounded hazy, and Beth could tell that he was in no state to be thinking critically. It was nothing. A drunken call to an ex, if you could even call her that, nothing out of the ordinary. Not for most people. She could just hang up. In the morning he’d have forgotten this entirely. But though she didn’t believe their romantic past and the nature of this call were completely unrelated, this was also a drunken call to a  _ friend.  _ You didn’t usually make that kind of call without good reason. She stood up, cursing her own kindness.

“Benny, where are you?”

“Some bar… or club. Some- something like that…” he stammered.

“Can you look for a street sign?”

“Wh-Why do you need-”

“So I know which establishment to blame when you turn up dead tomorrow morning. Now give me an address, Benny.”

He hung up briefly to look outside for a sign. Beth threw on a sweater and jeans, hoping he wouldn’t lose track of time, or pass out and forget to call back completely. God, what mess had he gotten himself into? She just needed to get to him before anyone else did. The last time they were both in New York,  _ she  _ was the reckless one. A careless kid who was flippant with her talent, at least in Benny’s eyes. Clearly, things had changed over two years. The phone rang again after a couple minutes. She finished running a comb through her tangled hair and hurried to pick it up. Benny recited the street names, still not fully understanding what she needed it for. 

“I have to go, Benny. Listen to me.” She spoke loudly and deliberately, hoping to ensure he understood. “Don’t move.”

Benny was standing outside the bar (or club, she wasn’t too sure either) when Beth pulled up in the taxi. She surveyed the place, taking note of the establishment’s name:  _ The Lenora _ .

“Here,” she said, extending a bill to the driver. “Wait for us.”

Benny’s hair was untidy, even more so than usual, and his leather jacket hung low on his arms, threatening to slide off at any moment. And, she realized, he was missing his hat. His  _ stupid _ fucking cowboy hat. It would be a point of contention later, she was sure. But as of now, Benny didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t seem to notice  _ her  _ either.  _ Asshole. _

“Benny?” she waved a hand in front of his half-closed eyes.

He jolted, looking up at her. 

“Beth? Why are you here? How did you come from Kentucky  _ so fast _ …” He looked genuinely puzzled, apparently forgetting the phone call that had taken place not even twenty minutes prior.

“Come on.” She took his arm fiercely and marched him over to the taxi. They slid into the back, and Benny immediately fell onto her shoulder. She shifted uncomfortably under his weight. God,  _ what a dick _ . But Beth bit her tongue. He was in no state to be arguing. She just needed to get him home.  _ Then  _ she could lay into him. For now, he needed rest. Besides, she wasn’t sure he was even registering her as a person, more of a strangely placed cushion in the back of a taxi than anything else. 

“That’s forty minutes from here,” the driver said gruffly when Beth gave him Benny’s address, clearly annoyed to be driving them so far so late.

She leafed through her wallet, knowing the trip would be expensive. There was enough, but Beth couldn’t keep spending on taxi fare like this. Benny had better pay her back.  _ God, she needed a fucking car _ . But not only did she have no idea how to navigate the process of buying a vehicle, but she also didn’t know how to drive in the first place. There was just never a good opportunity for her to learn. The skill would certainly be convenient now, she thought with annoyance. She could’ve driven Benny home in his Beetle, that way he wouldn’t have to go back in the morning to get it. There would still be the issue of the hat, she supposed. Of his hat and his car, Beth wasn’t sure which Benny valued more. Those two items seemed to be the only constants in his life. Anytime she had seen him, from their first meeting in Cincinnati to a few weeks ago at a tournament in Boston, he always had both on him. That was, until now. She looked over at him; snoring lightly on her shoulder, mouth hanging open. He did look lonely.

When the driver finally slowed in front of the apartment, Benny was fully asleep. 

“Benny. We’re here,” Beth said, shaking him awake.

He jerked, kicking the back of the driver’s seat, who looked like he might combust.

“Right. Um...where is here, exactly?”

She scoffed and leaned over his lap to open the door. When she gave the driver the fare, thanking him heartily, she was so glad to be out of his hair that she didn’t register that she was willingly dismissing her only way back to the hotel.  _ Oh well.  _ It wasn’t a good idea to leave him alone anyway, Beth thought as she led him down the dimly lit corridor to Benny’s front door, carefully weaving between trash bags thrown haphazardly on the concrete floor. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before Beth grabbed them from his hands and opened the door herself. He followed her for all but two paces before collapsing in the corridor to the main room. He slid down the wall, head facing down, into a sort of resigned slump. Beth dropped her hands to her knees, bending at the hip to meet his eyes.

“Benny. Can’t you at least make it to the bed?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to go to bed.”

She regarded him skeptically. His eyes were already half-closed. But maybe he was right. Her days as an alcoholic were over, but they were recent enough for her to know that what Benny  _ really  _ needed was water, not sleep. Beth begrudgingly made her way to the kitchen to pour him a glass, shaking her head. When did she start doing nice things for assholes like Benny? When did she start doing nice things at all? For as long as she could remember, Beth had been strictly self-serving, at least most of the time. But something was changing inside her. Age was heightening her conscience. And she didn’t like it one bit.

The apartment looked, Beth realized, exactly the same. It was a little strange, actually. Nearly a year since she’d been here last: and she wondered if Benny had even been grocery shopping. She held the chipped porcelain mug, the only clean cup she could find, steadily under the running sink and tapped her foot. Benny groaned from the other room. 

He looked a little better by the time Beth brought him the water. Still intoxicated, but evidently more conscious than he had been in the car.

“Here. You need it,” she said, extending the mug.

He looked at her, annoyed.  _ Yes _ , he was definitely thinking more clearly now.

Beth’s felt a current of anger pass through her. She was doing him a favor. She was being considerate. Couldn’t he at least pretend to be appreciative? 

“I can leave, Benny. I’m sure you’ll be  _ just fine _ without me.”

He sighed in resignation and grabbed the mug fiercely, nearly spilling on himself. Benny drank the water in one, long gulp and set the mug down firmly beside him. Beth sat down on the other side of the hallway to face him.

“Feel better?”

“Peachy.”

“What the hell happened to you, anyway?”

Benny ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “You…” 

He rubbed his temples. 

“You tell me, Harmon.”

Not sure exactly what that meant, Beth shook her head and reached out to grab the empty mug. 

“Well, we need to get more water in you. Rehydration is very…”

She found with a sort of visceral horror that instead of the mug’s cool, sturdy handle, she had mistakenly grabbed Benny’s hand.

“... important,” she murmured, voice hollow with the realization.

She looked down at her hand, as if to ask it what the hell it was thinking. She had found when living with Benny before Paris, that her hands often had minds of their own. But now more than ever, she needed them on her side. Her  _ rational  _ side, that was. She looked back up at Benny to find him smirking. She wanted to slap the look right off his face.  _ What was his angle? _

Beth pushed herself further against the wall, trying to maintain a safe distance. But it seemed that no matter how far she got from him, escape was impossible. She could be all the way back in Kentucky, it didn’t matter. The tension tethered them together like a too-taut rope. No matter how many times she tried to sever it, no matter how many times she tried to purge the idea from her mind, it just wouldn’t fucking go away. And presently, the corridor was beginning to feel smaller and smaller. Their legs almost touched in the center. Beth pulled uncomfortably at her sweater.  _ Jesus, when did it get so hot in here?  _

Benny drummed his fingers across his knees. Suddenly, he leaned forward, so that his shins pressed against her’s. Her stomach felt knotted. This was wrong, all wrong. Why was she even here? She glanced hopelessly at the door, knowing it offered no real prospect of escape.  _ Fuck.  _ She felt sick to her stomach, and she wasn’t even the drunk one. How could she let him play her into a corner like this? She was too focused on her anger, too upset at herself for even coming here in the first place, that she didn’t notice his plan of attack. The situation was so much worse than she originally thought. Her chest grew tighter the longer she thought about it. There was no way out. The game was a foregone conclusion, just like it had been at the U.S Open in Las Vegas. But much, much worse. Because this type of conflict wasn’t settled with a handshake. 

“I… uh…” He laughed in an exhausted sort of way, shaking his head. “I like…” He reached a steady hand to the top corner of her face, where her forehead ended. He gulped. “Your hair.”

Beth furrowed her eyebrows, sizing him up.  _ Really? _ She gave it a second thought. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless after all. Maybe she  _ wasn’t _ as powerless as she thought. The pain in her stomach lessened. She just needed to focus.

He inched toward her, and Beth allowed the space between them to grow smaller and smaller, until she could feel his warm breath on her skin. It smelled like booze and desperation. He’d given her an opening, she realized with a smile. She bit her lip and looked up, eyes wide. Benny brushed his fingers gently over the collar of her sweater, eyes closed in silent anticipation. Without thinking, Beth ran her manicured fingers leisurely across his jaw, which was rough with stubble.  _ She always was an intuitive player.  _ She stopped, his chin cupped in her delicate hand. Like a dog on a leash, he leaned toward her as she pulled him in. His breath was more and more ragged as they grew closer. He was getting impatient. She pulled him even closer, threatening to close the gap between their lips. Her grip on his face tightened, and Benny inhaled sharply _. _

“Sure you do,” Beth whispered into his expectant mouth. Swiftly, effortlessly, she stood up and sauntered back into the kitchen.

_ Checkmate. _


	2. we're all prima donnas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny and Beth are caught in a stalemate, but perhaps the advice of an old friend can help them move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much requested chapter two! went in kind of a diff direction than planed but i hope you enjoy regardless!

Beth woke the next morning to the stream of sunlight that crept through Benny’s narrow window, which peaked above the basement level. In the months she had spent here before Paris, when she was too mentally exhausted for chess and too physically exhausted for Benny, Beth had sometimes taken to watching the people, or more accurately their shoes, pass by. It was astounding the variety she could observe within just a few minutes. Yes, a lot had changed since her highschool days, when nearly every girl wore the same pair of black and white saddle shoes. But nobody walked by the window now, as Beth’s eyes flitted open. She stretched her muscles, sore from spending the night hunched over the counter, as she pieced together last night’s events. She smiled, recalling her victory.

Beth was careful not to make a sound as she maneuvered her way around the small space. It was early, and she knew Benny would still be asleep. Though the vision she had of him from the night before, sprawled across the bed, faced down and fully clothed, made her wonder if _anything_ could wake him up at this point. Better safe than sorry, she decided as she reached to retrieve her jacket from the unnecessarily lofty coat rack

Beth couldn’t afford to wait around for him, not that she wanted to. She’d cleared her entire schedule for the day, quite a feat with the press buzzing around her like a fucking swarm of bees these days. She wanted,  _ needed,  _ a break. And if she got out of here soon enough, she could still have one. Beth glanced around the apartment, stopping with her hand above the doorknob. It wouldn’t hurt to make the coffee, she supposed.

Beth had returned to her hotel room to shower off the scent of booze before heading out, hoping to catch a matinee, or maybe find a cozy café to sit at. Really, she just wanted to spend time by herself in New York City, without the ever-present pressure of chess, of her (admittedly low-profile) fame. At one point, Beth hadn’t wanted anything more than to win. But now that she had,  _ what was left? _ Endless interviews? More photoshoots? No, that wasn’t what she wanted at all. But what  _ did  _ she want? She shoved the thought out of her mind, positioning her sunglasses over her eyes and strutting onto the bustling street.

  


She didn’t realize at first. No really, she didn’t. All the city streets looked largely the same to her, and it wasn’t until it was staring her in the face that she recognized it: The Lenora. She was just about ready to write it off as a funny coincidence, to keep walking, enjoy her day before the train back to Kentucky tomorrow, before she remembered.  _ The hat. _ She hated herself for turning back, she hated herself for walking through those tall, imposing doors past the security guard outside. Here she was, doing yet another nice thing for him. When would it pay off? She shook her head, knowing it never would. Benny Watts had not been selfless a day in his life. This fucking conscience of hers. It was killing her.

“Hi,” Beth said to the bouncer, a tall man, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“The Lenora doesn’t reopen for lunch hours until 2:00. You’ll have to wait by the door until then.” 

_ Lunch  _ hours? The elusive nature of The Lenora became more and more contradictory by the minute. 

“I’m inquiring about a lost item. A man was here last night, my friend…”

“A lot of people come through here. I’m not good with faces.”

“He left a cowboy hat.”

“Oh.” A look of stunned recognition passed across the man’s face. “Did he make it home okay?”

“Do you have-”

“Wait. Are you the one he was calling? Oh boy… You know he called your home phone _seventeen_ times before that lady picked up? Fucking psycho…”

Beth narrowed her eyes.

“Sorry.”

“I’m really just here about the hat-”

“Right. Yes, we have it. It’s in, uh the lost in found.”

She stared for a moment, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

“Which is, um, right here.” He reached behind him to what, to Beth, looked not at all like a lost and found and remarkably like a single cowboy hat tossed haphazardly in the corner. 

She took it wordlessly from his hands and slid it into her bag. Okay, that was really it. She’d drop the hat off at his apartment before her train the next day. For the rest of the day, for hopefully many days after that, no more Benny. 

“Jesus, how hard can it fucking be? Did you find a hat last night or not? It has a wide brim. No, not a fucking fedora.”

_ Of-fucking-course. _

“It’s a cowboy hat,” Beth said, lowering her sunglasses.

“I don’t prefer that term,” Benny remarked, his face transforming from initial intrigue to annoyance.

Beth felt a surge of anger course through her veins. 

“They don’t have it, anyway.” The words came without thought.

“Is that so?” Benny rested his hand on his hip, eyebrows raised.

“Bye Benny.”

Beth swiveled on her heels, readjusting her sunglasses as she walked the other direction, without a look back. She imagined his expression; slack jaw, face twisted in confusion.

_ Dick. _

  


It was an accident. That was one thing she maintained. Okay, it hadn’t been an accident when she ran into him later that night at the park, or the next day in Chinatown, or the day after that on Broadway. But it was by complete and utter fucking accident that she happened to come across Benny a few hours later in that café on 45th street. If she had just gone back to the hotel, or maybe decided to eat somewhere else.  _ Anywhere _ else. It seemed like the universe was out to get her. Her guilty conscience, maybe. The weight of Benny’s ridiculous cowboy hat was heavy in her purse. But why should she have to feel guilty? Really, she was doing him a favor. 

They exchanged a few words, and Beth mentioned that she would be in Central Park the next day. This was, of course, a lie. Until it wasn’t. It was difficult to explain to herself why she had wanted to stay, and even more difficult to explain to Jolene.

“ _ You’re going to stay in New York so you can…run into him? _ ” she had puzzled.

But Jolene had no problem staying a couple extra days. House-sitting was as much for her as it was for Beth, if not more so. The house was big, yes, but it didn’t need daily maintenance. The arrangement was really just to give Jolene a little more space for a week or so, and to make sure Beth’s eggs didn’t spoil. 

It was irresponsible, really. Beth had things to do, places to be, people to meet. But first, she had to finish what she started. Which was… nothing, really. It was a game. One of them would mention some location or activity, and the other would  _ happen  _ to be there at the same time. They would talk for a moment, and then repeat the process. What Beth enjoyed the most, though, was the in-between parts. The shared glances at one another, the tension that hung heavy in the air. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt she was winning. And one thing she knew about herself was that, above all else, she loved to win. Maybe that was why she delayed her departure again and again. Maybe that was why on the fifth day of their match, she decided to bring in a third component.

Cleo was in town, like her, for fashion week. They met up during an event a few days earlier. Though Beth had told her then that she wouldn’t be free to meet again, on account of her busy schedule, Cleo still insisted on exchanging numbers.  _ Just in case _ .

The phone rang a few times before Cleo picked up.

“Hello?” Cleo’s breathless, hollow voice was one Beth recognized.

“Should I give you time to finish?” She asked halfway through a laugh.

“No need,” Beth heard her light a cigarette on the other line. “I’m afraid I wasn’t going to. To what do I owe the pleasure, Beth?”

“I was wondering… would you want to get dinner with me tonight? With Benny, I mean. With me and Benny.”

“What happened to your schedule? Something… free up?”

“Not exactly.” Beth twirled the phone wire between her fingers. “Well, it freed up because I canceled things. I’m, uh… otherwise engaged.” She bit her lip in thought. “Benny-”

“Ah,” Cleo interjected. “That is a business of its own.”

“Yes. Well- we’re not-”

“I’ll be there. Shall we say… La Grenouille at 6:00?”

“Yes.” She gulped. “Yes, that works.”

“See you then.” Cleo hung up the phone.

Beth would have to remember that name, for when she saw Benny at Rockefeller Center in an hour.  _ La Grenouille.  _

  


Benny was already waiting by the door when they arrived.

“Benny? Huh. I didn’t know you liked French food.”

“Sudden craving.” He smirked. “But the wait is killer. Though I’d sit out here and twiddle my thumbs for a while.”

“Good thing then, I made a reservation.” Cleo moved from behind Beth into Benny’s line of sight. 

He surveyed her, looking back to Beth, then to Cleo again.

“What..uh…” he gestured between the two of them. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re taking you out to dinner, is what’s going on,” Beth stated with a smile, walking through the restaurant’s stately doors.

The interior was warmly lit, filled with the sound of laughter and the scent of alcohol and French cuisine. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was back in Paris, the night before Borgov beat her for the second time. But things had changed since then. Her past self wouldn’t have declined when the waiter offered her something to drink. Her past self probably wouldn’t be in a sit-down restaurant in the first place. And her past self  _ certainly  _ wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble for Benny-fucking-Watts. She didn’t miss her crippling alcoholism or pill addiction, but what she did miss was her dignity. 

“So… what are you doing these days, Benny?” Cleo asked, stirring straw around in her drink absent-mindedly 

They’d been seated at a red booth near the wall. Beth sat on the inner side, with Cleo on her right against the wall and Benny to her left. 

“The same. Chess. Interviews. More Chess.”

“Fascinating.”

Beth felt a mounting conflict between the two of them. Sizing each other up from across the table, they spoke in expressions. Benny would purse his lips, Cleo would furrow her brow in response. It reminded her of how she might size up an opponent in a game. But instead of a chessboard between them, there simply sat a flickering candle.

“And you, Cleo?” Beth asked, trying to move along the conversation.

“Oh, you know. Modeling. Moving. Repeat. More of the same, every day.”

Beth surely knew how that felt.

  


It was barely an hour before Benny excused himself, claiming a business call. He left quickly before they could question him, abandoning his half-eaten entrée without a second thought. Beth knew he was lying. She always did.

“And he didn’t even say anything about the bill...men,” Cleo lamented.

“Benny,” Beth corrected.

“Him especially.”

Beth scooched closer to Cleo, pushing her meal aside. She didn’t feel particularly hungry anymore. She pressed her palms to the back of her neck and sighed in frustration. He didn’t even give her a location.  _ And she still had his fucking hat. _

“Do you love him?”

Beth sat up to meet Cleo’s eyes.

“Benny?” she scoffed. “I  _ hate  _ him.”

“You stayed in New York for him.” Cleo raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“I stayed in New York because… it’s a goddamn  _ game.  _ Everything is, you know… with him.” She took a long sip of her coke. “And I uh…I have his hat.”

Cleo laughed. “You two are strange.”

“ _ I’m  _ strange. He’s fucking psychotic.”

“Perhaps you are a bit dramatic.”

“You know he called me drunk 17 times? And when I finally came to his rescue, nothing. Not even a thank you. So yeah, I stole his hat.” Beth sighed, shaking her head. God, she hated him.

“Benny has a fragile ego. He gives and he gives and he gives, you know?”

“No.”

“He wants to be the one to save someone. He doesn’t like being in debt. Makes him feel… trapped.”

Where was Cleo even getting this information? Beth knew there was something between them in the past, but it was hard for her to imagine Benny  _ really  _ opening up to anyone, let alone Cleo. Then again, Cleo had a certain way about her. She was intuitive, especially when it came to emotions. Which is why she had asked Beth the question, why she knew that Beth didn’t  _ just  _ hate him. 

“The whole thing is just a waste of time, really. I have work to do. It’s silly.”

“Then why are you here? What reason do you have but love?”

She considered the question for a moment. 

“Love’s a waste of time, too,” Beth said resolutely.

“You say that, swear it up and down the walls… until it is too late.”

Beth met Cleo’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You have your talent and your career and your money. You can do anything you want, and time is no object. Benny thinks the same. Chess players and their egos.”

“Egos come with talent.”

“Sometimes,” she conceded, “but also with suffering. You both think it will last forever. That the world waits for you, that  _ the other _ waits for you. But it is not true.”

Something dropped in Beth’s stomach. 

“Benny is not your enemy, though he  _ is… _ frustrating, confusing.”

Beth scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“You are your own enemy, as he is his own. ”

Cleo was right. And Beth hated it.

“Figure it out, Beth,” Cleo said with a smile.

“I will.”

“And when you do, do not wait. Because it… what you have… does not last forever. It never does.”

Beth ruminated over these words for a moment. Maybe she was right. Their relationship, if you could even call it that, had gone on for four years. Maybe it  _ was _ nearing its expiration date.

“Swallow your pride. Love… it does not wait. One minute it is passion, it is fire. And it is easy to think it can last forever.” Cleo looked pointedly at Beth. “But then you turn around: and they’ve already forgotten you.”

Beth looked back up at her. She had a feeling Cleo wasn’t talking about Benny anymore.

“Cleo…” She paused for a moment in thought. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Cleo said through a melancholy smile. “It is the way of things. They come and they go, if we don’t interfere.”

Beth took a breath, reckoning with the truth of Cleo’s words.

“So, if it is what you want, interfere, Beth. If not,” She took a long sip. “At least give the poor boy his hat back.”


	3. snap out of it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth has made up her mind. But leaving Benny behind is proving to be far more difficult than she'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter! this one is a bit heavier but i really like how it came out. enjoy! :)

Cleo’s words echoed through Beth’s head all day. All morning, too. Over and over again. 

_ Swallow your pride. Love… it does not wait. _

She knew the notion was ridiculous. Cleo was an idealist. She didn’t see the detriment love, or whatever this feeling was, could have on someone. She didn’t see Beth on the floor of Benny’s apartment, nursing him back to sobriety. She didn’t see her trailing him around New York City, canceling plans and deferring training. It was embarrassing. Beth was pathetic. There was only one action to be taken, and it wasn’t a dramatic confession. It wasn’t her running into his waiting arms. It wasn’t a return, or resolution, to their brief dalliance into romance two years ago. It wasn’t what Beth wanted. But she respected herself too much. Her mother’s words played over in her head, in opposition to Cleo’s.

_ The strongest person is the person who isn’t scared to be alone.  _

Beth wasn’t scared to be alone. She was scared, more than anything, of her own feelings. She couldn’t let them fester. And so, there was only one thing left to do. Cut Benny Watts completely and utterly from her life. That was, after she returned his hat. It seemed like a bad idea to go to the apartment, and it probably was. But Cleo was right. If she wasn’t going to be with him, the least she could do was return his hat. It wasn’t doing her any favors by sitting in the back of her bag; a constant reminder of him. She’d drop it off by the door, and then get back in the taxi and go to the station. Nothing more. 

“We’re here,” the driver announced, pulling to the side of the road.

Beth opened her door and stepped out.  _ She could do this.  _

It turned out that she could. Quite easily, actually. She stood outside his door in the dark corridor for a moment, waiting for something to go astray. She didn’t know what she was expecting to happen, exactly. Whatever it was, it didn’t. She put the hat on Benny’s beaten-down welcome mat and walked back through the hall and up the stairs. And that was it. Just like that, it was over. She’d seen him for the last time the night before, and now she had rid the last part of him she carried. With the hat would go his presence from her life. At least, that was the plan.

It was working so far. If there was one thing Beth was good at, besides chess, it was ignoring feelings like this; loss, sorrow, the like. After her mother died, she’d hardly had time to use the bathroom, let alone process her sadness, before she was shoved into her brand-new Methuen uniform and told to fall in line. Her mother was there one moment, and the next she wasn’t. It was the same with Alma. Hell, she hadn’t even told Benny about her death. As far as he knew, the greatest loss that day had been against Borgov. Maybe that was true. People came and went from Beth’s life, as they did from everyone’s. She would lose Benny like she’d lost her mother and Alma, and she would not wallow in it. As she saw it, grief was nothing but an unfortunate side effect of being human. 

Beth looked out the window as they approached the station. She did love New York. She loved the architecture and the food and the crowds. She loved the simple feeling of just  _ living  _ that flowed through the city’s veins. It was much easier to understand love for things and places than it was to understand love for people. She did not love Benny in the way she loved New York. It wasn’t like the fondness she had for black tea, or for the heavy feeling of wooden chess pieces in her hands. Loving Benny felt like falling. Falling into something dark, something unknown, something  _ endless.  _ And that was terrifying. There was no way to see the steps in front of her, no way to explore each and every possibility. Because the possibilities were endless. Really, truly endless. Perhaps she could live a happy life with Benny. Maybe they could have a domestic life, kids; a family. But maybe he would destroy her. In Beth’s mind, both outcomes were equally possible, and that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

The driver dropped her off at the station about thirty minutes later. She grabbed her bag and paid the man. In saying goodbye to him, she also said goodbye to New York: the city she loved, and to Benny: the man that she did. Instead of weight lifting off of her, Beth only felt the pit in her stomach grow deeper. But this was the right thing, and she knew it. She and Benny made each other stupid. Maybe if they were different people, maybe if they met another time. But as it was, neither of them could sacrifice their wits. And that was okay, really. She would find another man who made her feel okay, like Harry had. Something told her though, that she would never feel the way she did with Benny again. And that was okay. It was a nice feeling, not a necessary one. 

With a sigh, Beth walked into the station, which was crowded with people, all headed in different directions. After buying her ticket, Beth headed straight for the train. It didn’t leave for another fifteen minutes, but she was better safe than sorry. Being on the train would help with the mounting melancholy in her chest, the sob forming at the back of her throat. The train car promised steady, inevitable movement. 

_ It is the way of things: they come and they go. _

Beth sat alone in a window seat near the door, though she doubted the middle or aisle seats beside her would be occupied. Not many people traveled to Kentucky this time of year. Or any time of year, for that matter. Beth clenched her eyes closed, trying her best to keep the tears she was holding back from ruining her makeup. It was natural to be sad. It didn’t mean that she was making the wrong choice. It didn’t mean she should run back. It just meant she was losing him, and that was sad. That was all.

She could have knocked on the door when she dropped off the hat. She could have seen him one last time. But that would have only made things harder. Beth wondered if one day she would forget his face, his voice, his laugh. It was hard to imagine she could. But people fade, and things change. One day this sorrow would seem small, she reminded herself. One day she would feel okay again. For now, she just had to keep herself composed and occupied. Without structure, she floundered. She’d book her days full with interviews and training, leaving no unnecessary room for thinking. Spending time in the past was a fruitless endeavor. What’s passed has passed.

But as of now, Benny was still fresh in Beth’s mind. He didn’t feel like a distant memory. He felt like he was right there with her,  _ waiting _ . But there was no sense in waiting for her. She would never grow into the person he needed. She should have realized sooner. Her lackluster relationship with Harry and her overly-complex one with Benny should have told her all she needed to know. Beth Harmon was not built for love. It was not something she could understand, not something she could predict. And it certainly wasn’t something she could control. It wasn’t just that she needed to be alone to be herself, but also that she knew Benny would never feel as complete with her as he could with someone else. Someone who was less… intricate. Someone who kissed him when they wanted to, because that was  _ all  _ they wanted. Someone who could just love for the sake of loving, because it was a beautiful thing. Someone who could look at him and just see a man. Because that was all he was. Someone who could just  _ be _ with him because he was all she needed. That someone was not Beth Harmon.

“Miss?” the voice startled Beth, taking her abruptly out of her thoughts. She turned to see a little girl, maybe 8 or 9.

“Are you Beth Harmon?”

“Yes.” Beth wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “That’s me.”

The girl extended a torn piece of paper and a pen. Beth had given hundreds of autographs before. But they had typically been to college boys or older men, people who  _ looked _ like chessplayers. This little girl was a novelty. She took the paper.

“Do you play?” Beth asked, signing her name in long, swoopy letters.

“I want to,” she said, not meeting Beth’s eyes. “I read about you in the paper. When you beat the Russian. I want to be as brave as you someday.”

_ Brave _ . The word caught her off guard. The girl hadn’t said it in the patronizing way reporters sometimes did, commending her incredible courage as a  _ woman _ who played chess. But Beth wasn’t brave. The woman who faced Borgov in Moscow, who beat him with a clear mind:  _ she _ was brave. But Beth wasn’t, not now. This woman, sitting on a train, poised to run away from her fears, was a  _ coward _ . That, she realized with sudden determination, she couldn’t let stand. Beth hurriedly extended the signature to the little girl and stood up. The girl looked up at her, a million questions in her eyes. But Beth had no time to answer them. She grabbed her bag from the overhead and rushed out of the train onto the platform without another thought. The girl looked after her, dumbfounded. 

Beth glanced around the station, frantic. She ran towards the exit, afraid that if she walked too slow she might change her mind. She didn’t know what was next. She could go to his apartment, but was that really where she wanted to meet him? Or maybe she could give him a call? Her heart was racing with her sudden spontaneity. She was scared, but fear was nothing she couldn’t overcome. After all, she just did. Caught up in her swirling thoughts, she almost didn’t notice him. 

Benny was standing defeated near the ticket counter, eyes fixed on the train to Kentucky, which had begun to move. When he pivoted to leave, he saw her.

“Beth? What are you still doing here? Your train’s-”

Before he could finish, and before she could talk herself out of it, Beth ran toward him. She kissed him like it was the last time because, for all she knew, it could be. She kissed him with fervor and desperation, with a passion that had been growing inside her for years. Benny, overcoming his initial shock, eagerly returned her enthusiasm. They kissed with longing, open mouths, with hands that gripped each other’s faces, as if to ensure the other wouldn’t pull away. They kissed like they weren’t in the middle of a busy train station, creating quite a scene with their display. Because life was too short not to. 

It didn’t seem nearly as scary now, with Benny close to her. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and her hands still shook against Benny’s cheeks, but the solidity of his body brought her back to the moment. She had been right: you shouldn’t dwell on the past. But you also shouldn’t torture yourself over the future. In this moment, mouths pressed together, Benny and Beth stood on the brink of uncertainty. And it was beautiful.


End file.
